Love in the Garden

Dear Husband Of Mine:

When I saw these weird carrots you grew in your garden, I thought of us.

We are growing together.

If separated one from the other, we would no longer look the way we're meant to.

 We nourish others.

 

I realize that it might be an indication of my slipping mental state that I am once again seeing people in vegetables, and I will now trot back to the kitchen and finish peeling and wedging carrots into sticks for our children's lunch.  Good news: unlike our carrot counterparts, no one has plans to skin and eat us.  Although GBaby has been given me some strange looks this morning.

Love & Death at the Homestead

How do I know my husband loves me?  He shot the Menacing Rooster.

I hope Doodle (he had several aliases, but I don't want my mother to see me type those names out because nice girls don't use that kind of language) does not rest in peace, for his offences were many.  He pecked and taloned (Please don't mind if that is not a verb) my children repeatedly.  He ripped a hole in a new coat last winter.  He rendered my nephew afraid to go outside.  AAAANNND. He chased me around my own car once.  And I never ever antagonized him like the children did.  True story.

October, 2010

So he's gone.  We're all a little happier for it.
Well, not the hens, obviously.
Feel free to address condolences to them.

Perfectly Thankful

Through various conversations & readings lately, I've been reminded of the pressure we women place upon ourselves to achieve perfection.
Perfect marriage.
Perfect children.
Perfect home.
Perfect meals.
Perfect body.
Perfect job/hobby/creations...
Perfect spelling.

Perfection is the four-lane highway on the guilt trip of motherhood. 
Anyone who's read my stuff before knows that I am not perfect in any of these aspects.  Really not perfect. Some days, I'm determined that my imperfections will not keep me from joy.  Some days I do allow my imperfections (and those of people around me) to keep me from joy.  Some days I forget I'm not perfect, and I actually do something that impresses myself.  And then my camera reminds me. 

See, I made this perfectly cute turkey shirt for GBaby.  Everything about it impressed me: I made it without a real pattern, loosely following an adaptation from one of my mom's sewing patterns from the 70's.  I used only scrap materials, left over from other projects.  I hand-embroidered parts. I even finished the seams and top-stitched it, people! 
It fits perfectly. 
"Gee, I'm so pleased with myself.  I must be perfect.  I'll take a picture to show everyone that sometimes I do things right. I can almost be a craft blogger (except for that whole I'm-not-a-Mormon part)."

Then.
I realized.
I dropped my camera two weeks ago.  And now it doesn't like to focus. (Anyone want to sell me a lens for cheap?)

Durn.
I was this close to being perfect. 

Now I have to pretend my picture is from the 1960's when I was perfect (except for that whole not-being-born-yet part).

Don't tell me that it's all The Awful Worldly World's fault, because it only has as much influence over me as I allow.  So, what drives my (ugly) desire for perfection? Insecurity? Pride? Control? Painful Memories? 
God sees every part of me, the perfect and imperfect.  And still, He loves me.  Amen.  That's enough to be Thankful.  With or without a turkey shirt.

Now, as a bonus reminder, go give a good listen to these two songs from a really great artist.  And be thankful for your imperfections, because they can showcase the enormity of God's love.

Just so you know that I'm not making this imperfect stuff up: I had a really crappy attitude for about 36 hours. You can pray for me (and my poor little family). Thanks.

A Little Pumpkin Love

Little things make me happy.  Like the mini pumpkins we have in over abundance around here.

 This little pumpkin, however, did not have any friends. He was very lonely.

 Sometimes when we're lonely, we just have to look around.  There's probably another pumpkin out there who also needs a friend.

 See?

No wait a minute.
This is not that kind of blog.
Please. Get a mini-pumpkin room.

I'm sorry, folks. I had no idea pumpkins thought these kinds of thoughts.

Baby Tears

I'm extra-tired today.
That explains why I nearly cried.
I was holding Baby, and she was not crying.
Sometimes the perfectness of rounding little arms and legs, the brightness of two round eyes edged by fragile eyelashes, the cooing "O" of a mouth, the wispy hair... well, sometimes the beauty of my Baby makes me cry.
Maybe because she is so sweet. Maybe because a baby is so hopeful and pure in this ugly, evil world. Maybe because I love all five of my babies so much I hurt.

Or maybe because I am tired.

22/28 (Love)

Ahh... a snow day. As I wrote this morning, I was pleased with the prospect of a schedule-free day and looked forward to filling it with fun activities.

"My children will remember what a great mom I am," I thought. "We will do crafts, a few chores, bake cinnamon bread and take a frozen trek around our yard. Then they'll nap and I'll pay bills."

I did not anticipate the ridiculous amount of time I would spend messing around with photoshop. Nor did I consider how much laundry I had to fold.

"Good thing I never mentioned crafts or baking to the children."

After lunch and clean-up (more tasks that took longer than they should have) we started suiting up for an outside adventure. "What a great chance to take pictures of nature's beauty! Let's look for today's Love picture outside, kids!"

Turns out, not everyone wanted to go outside.

But they went. "They are going to have fun whether they want to or not!"

Turns out, not everyone had a good attitude or a good time.

And the snow scenes didn't take my breath away. No, that was accomplished by lugging a weary and cold toddler atop my 8 month pregnant belly as I trudged on the ice-under-snow-in-the-cold-wind.

The pictures look like we had fun (you can see them on my facebook page) but I didn't really "see" the love I was looking for. There were some examples of love: Sammy loving the pets by feeding them, Norah loving her sister by pulling her sled, Willa loving her mommy by not complaining, Weston loving... well, um... the outdoors? But really, it wasn't the special write-a-book-about-what-a-great-mom experience I hoped for. And really, I should have known better; two of my children have been sick this past week, they probably shouldn't have been outside so long.

Needless to say, the frozen trek wore most of us (including me) out too much to carry on with any more activities besides napping.



But after naps, when I went to retrieve Willa from her bed... I saw this picture out the window. It was the beautiful love I was looking for today. Something I couldn't create or manipulate. I could only try to record the moment through the dirty glass in my upstairs hall. How much God loves us: He not only prepares our paths and orders our days, but He surrounds us with loveliness.

I know this sunset was not just for me. I'm not the center of the world. I'm not even the best mother in the world... this peaceful sunset was there because God wanted it, because it sang a silent song of praise to Him.

Love humbles us when we're proud.